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Book , ?3_1. 77 

Copyright N° 



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H 



LITTLE HAEOLD 



THE SUFFRAGETTE 



A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS 



G. F. LISANTI 




NICOLETTI BROS. PRESS. 242 LAFAYETTE ST. 
NEW YORK CIYT 



▼ ^▼▼▼▼^y 



J 






Copyright 
1911- 



CCI.D 25919 



PERSONS REPRESENTED: 



Mrs. PRIESTON, president of the Woman's Suffrage 

League. 
HAROLD, her son. 
JANE, her maid. 
Mister HIP, her cook. 
GEORGE, JANE'S fiance. 
Dr. TREADGOLD. 
Miss NORTON, secretary of the Woman's Suffrage 

League. 
Mrs. MILLER, GEORQB'S mother. 
Voice from Hall. 
A policeman. 

Place of action: New York City. 
Time: present. 



ACT I. 

Sitting room in 31rs. Friesfcon's home. In front, open 
window looking into park; at right, one door; a.t left, 
two doors. Shoutfcings of children at play are now and 
then heard to come from park. 

SCENE I. 

HAROLD, Mrs. PRIESTON 

(Harold, seated in a wheel-chair, is staring idiotically 
outside window: now and then he stirs and utters 
unintelligible exclamations) . 

Mrs. Priest. — (entering at right door). Harold! 

Har. — (turns slowly toward mother; smiling blank- 
ly). Hah, hah. 

Mrs. Priest. — (caressing child; tenderly). Now, my 

boy, Dr. Treadgold will soon be here. He is going 

to care for you, and make you speak and walk; 

and you will grow up a man, a nice big and 

strong man! 

Har. — Hah, hah. 

Mrs. Priest. — (presses his head to her breast; kissing 
his brow). Yes, and you will learn to read 
and write, and play games, and dance, and — 
oh! (wipes her eyes). 

}far. — Huh, huh. 

Mrs. Priest. — (moved, goes to window; gazing outside). 
Oh, I would offer up my life to see that 
child playing and running in the park like the 
other boys! (calls to left). Jane!! 

SCENE II. 

Mrs. PRIESTON, HAROLD, JANE. 

Jane — (appearing at forward left door). Yes, madam. 
Mrs. Priest. — (recomposed ) . Dr. Treadgold, the great 



specialist in nervous desease, will come this 
morning to examine Harold and see if there is 
hope for his recovery. Show him right in here as 
soon as he comes. 

Jane — Yes, madam. 

Mrs. Priest. — Did anyone call while I was out? 

Jane — No, madam, (drawing strip of paper from po- 
cket). But Miss Norton has telephoned (read- 
ing) that Mrs. Addam and Mrs. Gentell have 
excused themselves. 

Mrs. Priest. — Hum. 

Jane — (reading). Numerous representatives from 
several towns of the State have arrived. The 
Men's Club for Equal Rights, the Woman's 
Suffrage Party, the Independent Woman's Suf- 
frage Association, the Working Women's Club, 
the Equal-Vote-For-All Association and the 
Young Women's Club for Equal Rights have at 
the last hour sent in their adhesions to the 
Parade. 

Mrs. Priest. — Very well. Now, did you tell Mister Hip 
that there will be guests here this evening after 
the Parade and Meeting will be over? 

Jane — Yes, madam — he'5 out on the job. 

Mrs. Priest. — Very well, (door-bell rings). There is 
a ring at the door - maybe it is It Dr. Treadgold. 
Go, Jane, and show him in. 

Jane — Yes, madam, (exits at backward left door). 

SCENE III. 

Mrs. PRIESTON, HAROLD, Dr. TREADGOLD. 

Mrs. Priest. — (turning Harold's chair). Now, Harold, 
look this way, and behave nicely while the 
doctor is examining you. (wipes child's mouth 
and chin, and readjusts his clothes). 

— 6 — 



Har. — (gleefully). Hah, hah, hah. 

Dr. Tread. — (appearing at left backward door, pre- 
ceded by Jane; he carries valise in right hand). 
Good morning, Mrs. Prieston. 

Mrs. Priest. — (turning to meet doctor). Good morn- 
ing, Dr. Treadgold. Please step right in, doctor. 
Here is a chair to accomodate yourself, and 
here is my sick child waiting for you. (to Jane). 
Jane, keep within call, for I may need you, 

Jane — Yes, madam, (exits at left forward door). 

Dr. Tread. — (bows; advancing). Thank you, madam, 
(lays valise on floor beside chair; walks over to 
surprisedly staring child. Looking him over) . 
His age, madam? 

Mrs. Priest. — Ten years old, doctor. 

Dr. Tread. — His name, madam? 

Mrs. Priest. — Harold. 

Dr. Tread. — (after short silence, calling to child). 
Harold! 

Har. — (starts; then bursts into loud sobbing, raising 
arms toward mother). Boo-hoo, boo-hoo. 

Mrs. Priest. — (hastens over to child, busying herself 
to quiet him). He is scared, the poor darling! 
Now, Harold, be quiet and good — Dr. Tread- 
gold will help you into health and enjoyment 
of life, (with a bow motions doctor to chair; 
draws nerby chair to her, and sits by child, 
holding one arm about his neck and smoothing 
his hair with other hand). 

Dr. Tread. — (has seated himself, and is stroking his 
beard in deep thought. As if speaking to himself) 
Harold Prieston! 

Mrs. Priest. — Yes, doctor. When this child was born 
he was Harold Douglas Prieston, junior. These 
last five years he has been just Harold Douglas 

— 7 — 



Prieston, following upon the death of Harold 
Douglas Prieston, senior, my worthy husband 

Dr. Tread. — Then I must have known your husband, 
madam ; for I remember to have met at different 
epocs at a common friend's one Harold Douglas 
Prieston from up-State. 

Mrs. Priest. — Exactly. We lived up-State until his 
demise. Then I moved over here with my 
dug"hter now married and living in England. 

Br. Tread. — (bowing). I am very glad, indeed, to 
meet, and I hope to be of service to, the w4feiv 
of a former acquaintance of mine. 

Mrs. Priest, — Thank you, Dr. Treadgold. 

Dr. Tread. — I remember having been consulted by 
him a couple of times at my office for what he 
used to call nervous break-downs; but what was 
the matter with him, indeed, was an incipient 
heart desease, and I am sure of having advised 
him to take a long rest and, if possible, a trip 
to, and an adequate stay under, a milder cli- 
mate. Then I heard no more of him. 

Mrs. Priest. — (sighing). You were right, doctor — he 
died of heart failure after a violent altercation 
with a partner of his. 

Dr. Tread. — I am sorry, indeed, for his untimely end. 
I am sure, though, that several more years 
would have been added to him had he given up 
in time the too strenuous life he was leading. 

Mrs. Priest. — That was true, doctor. On my part I 
always tried to alleviate the heavy burden of 
his responsibilities as party leader, whereby 
much work and many worriments fell upon my 
shoulders on more than one occasion. But I 
stood them perfectly well — I always have had 
a liking to work for the good of other people, 

— 8 — 



and I am now spending all my energy in promot- 
ing the woman's suffrage cause. 

Dr. Tread. — A most worthy task, indeed, madam. 
May be one of those unusual periods of election 
excitement and worriment happened to have 
taken place in just those months when you 
were with this child. I beg your pardon, madam, 
for my query — but it is greatly important for 
me to know. 

Mrs. Priest. — There is no reason in the world why 1 
should £® withhold from you whatever information 
wich may in any measure be of help to my 
unfortunate child. Yqs, doctor, there was one of 
the hottest and hardest — fought elections that 
yet linger in my memory. My husband was then 
running for the mayorship of our town — and 
before and after there were much contention 
and a large harvest of displeasing incidents. 

Dr. Tread. — Hum. 

Mrs. Priest. — As usual, I underwent a not indifferent 
share of the work and strain of that eventful 
period, and I was so much mentally overdone 
and bodily fatigued that I had to lie in bed for 
a whole fortnight. 

I>r. Tread. — Hum. 

Mrs. Priest. — Yet, when this my child came into the 
world, oh, he weighed twelve pounds, -and was 
so healthful and chubby that I really was proud 
of him and myself. But, at his fifth year, without 
an apparent cause whatever, he began to fade 
iand wane, growing more apathetic as years 
passed and completely losing the use of speech 
and the power of standing up. 

Dr. Tread. — Hum. And to what did it seem to you 
that this change was to be laid, madam? 

— 9 — 



Mrs. Priest. — Well, doctor, I have been told of so 
many theories and stories that I have come to 
believe none of them. I myself have always 
thought it probable that his father's death which 
happened about that time might have affected 
the child's mind to such a degree as to cause 
so notable a change in him. 

Dr. Tread. — A very common error, madam, this of 
seizing upon that because which chances to go 
behind a why. 

Mrs. Priest. — (interestedly). And to what do you 
think it was due, if I may know, Dr. Treadgold? 

Dr. Tread. — (confidentially). Being you the woman 
of a man I knew and esteemed, and as I deem 
you full of warn world&visdom and wide — ranging 
ideas, I shall not withhold from you my real 
conviction. 

Mrs. Priest. — (anxiously) Say it frankly, doctor. 

Dr. Tread. — Indeed, I believe, nay, am sure, good, 
madam, that tht unusually hot and hard — 
fought election of which you just spoke was the 
blast that blighted your child's existence. 

Mrs. Priest. — (shocked). But, doctor, the child was 
five years old when the decease began to show 
out. 

Dr. Tread. — That has no bearing at all upon facts — 
it only means that the enemy lurked in the 
boy's body for five years before starting its 
destructive work. 

Mrs. Priest, — (startled and shrinking from child). 
Great goodness! Am I, then, guilty of this child's 
wretchdness? 

Dr. Tread. — Not guilty, madam — simply responsible. 

Har. — (blankly). Huh, huh. 



10 — 



Mrs. Priest. — (passing a hand over her forehead). I 
never thought of that! How could that be! 

Dr. Tread. — Well, Mrs. Prieston, a thing most fre- 
quent to happen in the world is just what one 
never thinks of. But facts are as undeniable 
and as clear as the eternal light of the sun. 

Mrs. Priest. — (hugging and kissing child). Oh, my 
dear unfortunate child! 

Dr. Thread. — It is a well known experiment, madam, 
that of shaking up an egg while it is hatched — 
the outcome will be a freak, an unvital pullet, 
because it lacked that rest and undiverted energy 
essential to the moulding of a new life. 

Mrs. Priest. — (in anguish). Oh, my poor child I 

Dr. Tread. Indeed, madam, bodily or mental strains 

and shocks are no less noxious to the forming 
up of a human being. 

Mrs. Priest. — (wringing hands; beseechingly). Oh, 
Dr. Treadgold, help my child, for my conscien- 
ce's sake! Save him to me, since my responsab- 
ility to him is so great! My unconscious faufct 
I shall atone by dedicating all my life to render 
him health and happiness. 

Har. — (blankly). Huh, huh. 

Dr. Tread. — (rising) No doubt, madam, but that I 
ishall do all that is in my power to give your 
child a new life. But, indeed, before taking up 
any course of decision thereon, I need to accur- 
ately examine his limbs' conditions ; will you 
please, good madam, have him laid on a couch? 

Mrs. Priest. — Presently, doctor, (calling to left). 
Jane! 

Jane, (entering at forward left door). Yes, madam. 

Mrs. Priest: (to Jane). — Take Harold to his bed. 



11 — 



Jane — (wheeling child through door at right) — Yes, 
madam. 

(Mrs. Prieston and Dr. Treadgold follow). 

SCENA IV. 

GEORGE, JANE. 

George — (appears at backward left door; looks with 
surprise at place where Harold's chair stood; goes 

to forward left door; peeps inside, hushedly 

calling). Jane! (on ^receiving no answer, he 

goes to window and gazes outside). 
Jane — (comes at right door for valise; picks it up; 

noticing George). George! 
George — (turning). Jane! 
Jane — (in sad tone). No job yet? 
George — (coming forward). Not yet — but I have 

been promised — 
Mrs. Priest. — (from inside). Jane! 
Jane — (starting for door). Yes, madam, (turning to 

George). Wait a minute, George — I '11 be right 

back, (exits). 
George — (looking around). What is 't going on in 

here, anyway! (pause) . 
Jane — (re-entering). So you have been promised 

work, George. 
George. — Yes. But Where's Harold? 
jane — (glumly). You always ask after that child 

before anything else. 
George — (going to her, appeasinly). Oh, Jane, why 

are you so hard with children? I very much 

pity the poor thing sitting there the whole day 

long as dumb and as still as a block! It really 

appeals to my kindest sympathy. 
_Jane — (stamping foot on floor). Cut that out. 

__12 — 



George — You should be more sympathetic with suf- 
fering people, Jane! 
Jane — Never mind where I place my sympathy. Do 

I not love you? Isn't that enough for you? 
George — (putting arm about her waist). By God, you 

do! You are so jealous of me, too! 
Jane — (trying to get herself loose). Now, cut that 

out, too. 
George — (steals kiss from her; letting her free). 

Isn't that true? 
Jane — (readjusting her puffs). Now that you are sure 

of getting work, aren't we going to marry? 
George — (going to chair). Not before I have put some 

yellow bills by. 
Jane — (makes him sit down; leaning over him). Is it 

on account of the money that you are putting 

off our marriage? 
George - — (looking up to her). Well — anyway, I 

don't want to set up house on credit, and sleep 

in a dollar-a-week bed. Besides, I want to have 

an eight day s' honeymoon outside the city. 
Jane — (broodingly) . And had you the money for all 

that, you would marry me on the spot? 
George — (wistfully). No doubt, my dear! 
Jane — (sighing). Oh, well — I think we'll have to 

wait for a while, yet! 
George — Not very long, if things go all right. Mother 4 

too, likes to see me settle down, for once. 
Jane — (apprehensive). Not with me, though — your 

mother doesn't like to see a great deal of me. 

Anyhow, it's hard to wait when one loves you 

as I do. 
George. — Never mind, Jane, mother will come to like 

you, and things will be fixed up pretty soon. 
Jane — (coaxingly). Now, George, 1 wish to tell you 

— 13 — 



that we are by no means going to miss Tuesday 
night's dance. 
George — ( contraried ) . Oh, I don't care to go! It's not 

going to be a great thing — let's keep off, 

Jane. 
Jane — (drawing herself up). We shall go, George! 

I'll mind to the tickets, if you want. 
George — (as above). Oh, Jane! 
Jane — (relaxing). I shall wear my new pink dress. 

(leaning on him, coaxingly). Oh, the boys will 

envy you, George! 
George — (rising; sternly). Jane! That's no good 

reason for going. 
Jane — (looking him in the face). Don't you like to 

be envied? 
George — (sternly). Xo — not in that sense! 
>Jane — (turning away from him). It makes no differ- 
ence in what sense you like to — we shall go. 
George — (appeasingly ) . But — let's go to a theatre, 

Jane! 
Jane — (turning toward him). To be sitting for three 

hours like dummies? 
George — (sighing). Well — all right — we'll go. 

I '11 get the tickets, (pause) Is Mrs. Prieston 

going out of town? I saw you took that valise 

inside. 
•lane — (unconcernedly) No — she doesn't. A doctor 

is in there examining the child. 
George — (interestedly). Oh — and what does he 

say? 
Jane — (as above). I don't know. But I heard him 

say that the worriment about an election 

brought that desease on the child. 
George — (smiling). About an election? What do you 

mean? 

— 14 — 



Jane — (as above). And that if you shake an egg 

while it's hatched, no good chick will come 

out. 
George (hushedly laughing). What are you talking 

about, Jane? 
Jane — (irritatedly) . I didn't say it, you fool! The 

doctor said it. 
George — (ashamed) I beg your pardon, Jane; but 

these are very funny things. 
Jane — (in milder tone). Maybe they are. (starting) 

But here they are coming out. (motioning him 

to forward left door) Get in there. 

(George exits). 
SCENE V. 

Mrs. PRIESTOX, Dr. TREADGOLD, JANE 

Mrs. Priest. — (entering at right door, followed by Dr. 

Treadgold). Very well, Dr. Treadgold — it all 
shall be arranged in a few days. (to Jane) 

Jane, wheel Harold out here again. 
Jane — Yes, madam, (exits). 

SCENE VI 

Mrs. PRIESTOX, Dr. TREADGOLD 

Dr. Tread. — (bowing). I am very glad, indeed, ma- 
dam, to have met the widow of Harold Douglas 
Prieston. I hope, indeed, to be of service to 
you and of help to your child, (exits at left 
backward door). 

Mrs. Priest. — (following after him). My hearty 
thanks, Dr. Treadgold. 

S( EXE VII 

GEORGE, JANE, HAROLD. 

George — (sticking head out of door; hushedly). 
Jane ! 

— 15 — 



Jane — (wheeling Harold in: to George). You stay 
in there, yet. 

George — (to Harold). Harold! 

Hap. — (squirming gleefully). Hah, hah. 

Jane — (gruffly). Now, draw in there, George! Madam 
is coming back — and I don't want her to see 
you here to-day. (George retreats). 

SCENE VIII 

Mrs. PRIESTON, JANE, HAROLD. 

Mrs. Priest. — (re-enters: goes to child and busies 
herself in readjusting his garments. To Jane). 
Jane ! 

Jane — Yes, madam. 

Mrs. Priest. — (turning toward Jane). I want to speak 
to you. 

Jane — Yes, madam. 

Mrs. Priest. — To-day ft is Saturday. 

Jane — Yes. madam. 

Mrs. Priest. — Now, Monday, Harold will be taken 
away to a private Sanitarium, wherein he will 
be scientifically and, I hope, successfully, treated. 

Jane — Yes, madam. 

Mrs. Priest. — And, then, at the end of the week I 
shall set off for England to see my daughter 
and study the Suffrage movement over there. 

Jane — Yes, madam. 

Mrs. Priest. — As I do not know exactly when I shall 
return to New York, you will consider yourself 
discharged by the end of next week. 

Jane — (showing no emotion). Yes, madam. 

Mrs. Priest. — (going to door at right). I'll in the 
dressing room to prepare to go to the League* 

Jane — Yes, madam. 

(exits Mrs. Prieston). 

— 16 — 



SCENE IX. 

JANE, GEORGE, HAROLD. 

Jane — (staring distractedly on floor; calls). George! 

George — (coming out). Here I 'm. 

Har. — (gleefully squirming). Hah, hah. 

Jane — (as above). Did you hear? 

George — ■ No — what? 

Jane — (as above). I have lost my position. 

George — (surprised). And why? 

Jane — (as above; slowly). Because next week Harold 

will be taken to a Sanitarium and Mrs. PriestOn 

sails for England. 
George — (as above). Indeed! 

Jane — (looking up to him). Well, what do you say? 
George — I cannot help it. (goes to her, takes her 

hands in his; cheeringly). Never mind minding 

it — cheer up, Jane! It will be easy for you to 

find another position. Anyway, I hope to be 

able soon to help you out. 
Jane — (fidgety). Thank you, George. There's time to 

fix things up, I believe. 
George — Oh, yes — plenty of time, Jane. 

SCENE X 

GEORGE, JANE, MISTER HIP, HAROLD 

Mist. Hip — (enters at backward left door with couple 
of packages in hands; lipms on cheerily). Ouch, 
that my hip aches terribly this morning, by 
jove! There's surely a change going on in the 
weather — I 'm sure of that, by jove. October 
is a really bad month for rheumatic people! 
(noticing George). Hello George! 

George — (smiling). You said the same thing of last 
month, Mister Hip. 

-.17 — 



Mist, Hip — (hairing). Did I? By jove, I didn't mean 
it then — I well mean it this time, George! Found 
work? 

George — You wouldn't see me here, if I had. 

Mist. Hip — By jove, you are right, George, (exits at 
left forward door, talking). You are right, George. 
Why don't you take up my perfession, George? 
By jove, cooks are very much in demand 
nowadays. People want to eat good, but don't 
know much about cooking, by jove, George, (re- 
enters without packages: going toward Harold). 
Hello, Harold! How's Harold doing to-day? 

Har. — (gleefully squirming in chair). Hah, hah. 

Mist. Hip — (takes up child's hands: singing and wagg- 
ing). Deedle, doodle, etc. 

Har. — (as above). Hah, hah, hah. 

Mist. Hip — (halting). I love this here child more 
than I ever loved my poor dead wife, by jove — 
though she was a very worthy lady, of good 
family and very refined manners. 

George — ( good-humoredly ) . Madam Hip, eh? 

Mist. Hip — She always said she had married me 
for my good cooking, by jove. (singing and 
wagging). Deedle, doodle, etc. 

Har. — (as above). Hah, hah, hah. 

Mist Hip — (drops child's hands; turning toward 
George ) . It's but an hour that I was offered a 
position in a restaurant — mind, in a restau- 
rant, by jove. 

Jane — (who, the while, had been busying herself 
about the room; coolly). You had better take 
it up. Mister Hip. 

Mist. Hip — (surprised). And leave this here house, 
wherein I have been master of pot and fire 
these five years? (turning toward Harold) and 

— 18 — 



th#s here dear child? (turning toward door at 

right) and worthy Mrs. Prieston who is so good 

to us? 
Jane — (as above). I 'm afraid we '11 have to leave — 

at least I shall. 
Mist. Hip. — (as above). You — and why? 
Jane — Because by the end of next week Harold will 

be in a Sanitarium and Madam sailing out for 

Europe. 
Mist. Hip — (gazing at each in turn). Is that so? 

(turning toward Harold). Well, by Jove, I'll go 

to the Sanitarium with you, my boy. (all laugh). 

CURTAIN 

ACT II. 

Room at the Victoria Hall: open door at right, leading 
to offices; in front, large arched ad open window 
with low balaustrate: opposite houses are seen through 
window, street intervening. Strains of anthem are 
heard in the distance, and cheers and clappings of 
hands at intervals. As paraders reach and file off 
underneath window, only the flags and labaras of 
each party are seen floating in the air, while cheers, 
clappings of hands and musical strains continue as 
above. During filing off of parade under window 
sounds and voices are being heard in hall. 

SCENE I. 

Miss NORTON, Mrs. PRIESTON. 

Miss Nort. — (wearing her party insignia enters at 
right; takes off hat, placing it on chair; goes 
to window and shuts it. Then she sits at table; 
draws scroll of paper from handbag and starts 
penciling down. Pause. Starting). Oh, 1 '11 say it 
was simply grant! 

— 19 — 



Mrs. Priest. — (entering at right). Miss Norton! 

Miss Xort. — (rising). Oh, Mrs. Prieston! (going to 
her) You deserve to be warmly gratulated. It 
has been a great day for our party. People have 
been very well impressed, indeed, Mrs. Prieston! 

Mrs. Priest. — Thank you, Miss Norton. It could not 
have been better. I am really delighted — an 
event of great significance. 

Miss Xort. — (warming up). Everything has run so 
nicely and orderly, and the whole has been a 
wonder! 

Mrs. Priest. — It really has, Miss Norton. 

Miss Xort. — (as above). And those that better have 
appreciated and approved of it were the young 
men, who marched at our sides and wanted to 
bear our banners. 

Mrs. Priest. — ( appreciating^ ) . Yes, Miss Norton — 
that was very nice and significant. Youth is 
always generous, and there is hope that as men 
they will likewise support our cause as hear- 
tedly and ostensibly as they did to-day. 

Miss Xoit. — Oh, Mrs. Prieston, to-day's event will nes- 
er fade from memory! 

Mrs. Priest. — Miss Norton, after the meeting is over 
I shall wish to speak to you about my leaving 
for England next week. 

Miss Xort. — Ah — All right, Mrs. Prieston, (goes to 
door at right). Let's see. (after glancing into 
hall). They a If have taken their seats, and 
those on the platform are looking this way. 

Mrs. Priest. — (going to door) They are waiting for 
me — it is time for the addresses, (exits. Door 
closes after her). 



— 20 — 



SCENE II. 
Miss NORTON ALONE. 

(re-seating herself at table). OK/What an ideal 
woman for our party! Through her untiring 
activities our cause has progressed and roused 
sympathies with all classes, (a clapping of hands 
is heard to come from hall; she rises, goes to 
door at right, opens door and, holding it ajar, 
listens) . 
Mrs. Priaston\s voice. — Ladies and gentlemen: When 
not so many years ago I was entrusted with the 
leadership of the Woman's Suffrage League, this 
coda* have been compared at that time to a 
stronghold wherein a small nucleus of strenuous 
and staunch friends of woman's rights were 
immured and besieged by a hostile, scoffing 
and angry foe. But, confident with the justice 
of our cause and the righteousness of our claim, 
we sallied forth, overpowered the enemy, inva- 
ded his very entrenchments and took him a 
prisoner to our camp. And the enemy which we 
have defeated and routed was prejudice — yes 
— prejudice, that always and tirelessly at- 
tempts at, and for a time succeeds in, blocking 
the highway on which new thoughts and great 
ideas move to their ineluctable final thriumph! 
And as a cloud may for a while abscond 
ftom our eye* the majesty of the sun, so 
prejudice obscured and dimmed for a time the 
splendour of our ideal in its thriumphal course 
to victory! (cheers). 

There is one thing we always shall bear in 
mind, that we shall not be dismayed into flight, 
or shame, or concessions by any consideration 
whatever; for only through blind and untotter- 

— 21 — 



ing faith shall we not fail to attain to our high 
aim. Our sacrifice to the welifare and happiness 
of the world must be great and unconditioned, 
because our final thriumph will be meted out 
to us on the gauge of how much of selfishness 
and greediness and petty ambitions we have 
stripped our natures, (cheers. Pause). 

Ladies and gentlemen: Our noble ideal is 
destined to final accomplishment not because 
woman's partecipation to the government of our 
commonwealth is a private issue of ours, but 
because it is an issue of that evolution which 
will in the end win and subdue all opposition 
and trammels raised and contrived by our weak 
humanity, (cheers). 

Ladies and gentlemen: Let me tell you that 
neither in morals, nor in religion, nor in science 
shall we seek for the grounds of our belief in a 
favorable outcome of our cause, because they 
have been moulded, directed and influenced by 
only one element of the double ingredient of the 
human existence. 

Nothing but Evolution will clear our way and 
ibeacon us to the haven of our final sailing. It 
will not belie us, because it is far beyond the 
reaching of any and all human power — its 
working out the ends of the Almighty goes on 
silently and uncheckably. That selfsame power 
which has made possible the machine and factory 
system of this our Era will slowly and inexo- 
rably bring on the equalness of man and 
woman's rights, (cheers). 

A dusky and steel-coated giant is our ca- 
valier: his head rises high into the clouds; his 
arms reach far off from country to country, 
leaving to the one what it takes from the other. 

— 22 — 



And who shall withstand or pull down this 
mighty power of the earth? Who shall ever hope 
to stop our evolutional march to victory? None, 
my dear ladies and gentlemen — none; for no 
potentate born of man shall check, or disband 
our phalanxes led by a chieftain that knows no 
defeat, (cheers). Had not man to suffer slavery 
before he emancipated himself? and has not 
woman borne enough slavery to entitle her to a 
near liberation? And when this our liberation, 
shall come all the human codes — moral, ethi- 
cal, religious, social and economical — shall 
mould themselves on the new status of woman 
kind! (loud and prolonged cheers), 

SCENE III. 

Miss NORTON, Mister HIP. 

Mist. Hip — (appears at left door; peeping into room). 
Is't you, Miss Norton? 

Miss Xort. — (turns; going toward Mister Hip). Oh, 
Mister Hip! What brings you here? 

Mist. Hip — (limping in, all upset). What brings me 
here, eh? Where's Mrs. Prieston? 

Miss Xort. — (pointing to right). In there. She has 
just finished reading her address. 

Mist. Hip — (noticing open door at right). Please shut 
that door. Oh, how hard it will be for her to 
bear ! 

Miss Nort. — (after shutting door). What is the mat- 
ter, Mister Hip? (smiling). You are not maud- 
lin? 

Mist. Hip — Maudlin, eh? (limps to chair; seating 
himself down). Ouch! You'll not think so, by 
jove, when you have heard what happened! 



— 23 — 



Miss Xort. — (seriously). You scare me, Mister Hip! 
(anxiously). What happened? 

Mist. Hip — (in maudlin tone). There was fire in Mrs. 
Prieston's house! 

Miss Nort. — (shocked). Fire! Oh God, what a terrible 
news you have brought, Mister Hip! 

Mist Hip — Terrible, you say? Indeed, it is, Miss 
Norton! 

Miss Xort. — (as above). And how did it happen? Oh, 
let me call Mrs. Prieston! (going toward door 
at right). 

Mist. Hip — (starting). Wait, wait, Miss Norton! I'm 
so upset that I 'm afraid of — er — a stroke! 
(appealingly) . Please, Miss Norton, wait a mi- 
nute. 

Miss Xort. — (halting). I will, Mister Hip (going to 
him). And how did it happen? 

Mist. Hip — God help me if I know! I had gone out 
to leave orders at the butcher's and make some 
selections that had just cropped up in my mind 
for the occasion, and stayed out about an hour; 
and when I went back there stood in front of 
the house a throbbing and reeking fire-engine 
and all round lots of people with their noses up. 
By jove, they were looking up at our windows! 
I was not allowed to go in by a couple of gruff 
cops who would ruthlessly have tried their sticks 
on my rheumatic hip! 

Miss Xort. — ((going to table and leaning on it). Poor 
Mister Hip. And then? 

Mist. Hip — (plaintively). Oh, the wretched sight that 
lingers before my eyes! All at once the gong 
of an Ambulance was heard to clang, and on it 
rushed pulling up at the door. And then down 
was taken, wrapped up in a blanket, and hustled 

— 24 — 



into the wagon — (sobbing) oh, the dreadful 
sight of my life! 

Miss Nort. — (aghast). Who was it? 

Mist. Hip — f (hiding face in hands). Little Harold — 
the dear child, my best little friend! 

Miss Nort. — (with a hushed cry). Oh, awful fate! 

Mist. Hip — (pitifully moaning). My best little friend! 
Madam's unfortunate child! Oh, oh, oh! (pause) 

Miss Nort. — (starting). Oh, Mrs. Prieston must be 
told at once! (goes to door). 

Mist. Hip — (rising). Ouch! Oh, yes : — call her! 
(deterredly stares at door). 

(Mass Norton exits at right, leaving door 
open). 

Toice from hall. — Well you know, ladies and gentle- 
men, that Christ said: "I say unto thee thou 
shalt leave thy house, thy dear wife, thy calling 
children, and shalt follow me." And again: "I 
say unto ye that I have come to bring war 
betwixt father and son, betwixt mother and 
daughter". The same words, my dear sisters, 
are said unto you by our cause — Christ was 
followed and the house was deserted, and the 
world was regenerated. And the world will be 
regenerated anew if the call of woman's cause 
rouses our dormant souls, (cheers). 

SCENE IV. 

Mister HIP, Miss HORTON, Mrs. PRIESTON. 

Mrs. Priest. — (enters at right door, followed by Miss 
Norton. Door closes behind them). What is it, 
Miss Norton? (notices Mister Hip: advancing). 
Oh, is it you, Migter Hip? 

Mist. Hip — (in maudlin tone). Yes, madam. 

Mrs. Priest. — Is it anything you wish to ask ma, 
Mister Hip? 

— 25 — 



Mister Hip — (in subdued sobs) He, he — oh, ma- 
dam! 

Mrs. Priest. — (affrighted). What is the matter with 
you, Mister Hip? 

Miss Nort. — (going to Mrs. Prieston; appealingly) . 
Oh, Mrs. Prieston! Mister Hip is too stirred to 
speak, (with visible pain). There was fire at 
your home to-day. 

Mrs. Priest. — (aghast). Fire at my home! Good God 

— and what of my child? 

Mist. Hip — (as above). He, he — oh, madam! 

Miss Nort. — The child must have been much scared 
or wounded, for he was rushed away in an Am- 
bulance. 

Mrs. Priest. — (wringing hands in frenzied despair) . 
Oh, my Harold! my child! And where was he 
taken to? and what has been done with him? 
Oh, take me to him! (beside herself with 
anguish, wanders from door to door). I must go 
to him — I must see him! I will nurse him and 
heal his wounds, (halting, to Miss Norton). 
Wounds, you said? is he wounded? (going to 
left door). Oh, take me to him! 

SCENE V. 

Mrs. PRIESTON, Miss NORTON, Mister HIP, GEORGE 

George — (enter at left door; seeing Mrs. Prieston). 

Oh, Mrs. Prieston! 
Mrs. Priest. — (halting). George! Have you seen my 

child? are you coming from him? Oh, tell me 

all, George! 
George — (deeply moved). Madam, calm yourself! Yes 

— I am coming from him. 

Mrs. Priest. — (brightening). Oh, tell me, George! Did 
you see him? Was he badly wounded? 

— 26 — 



George — (as above). Well, madam — I can't really 
tell that. But if wounds there were they 
mustn't have been of the slightest. 

Mrs. Priest. — (bewildered). What do you mean, 
George? 

Mist. Hip — (moaning). He, he -oh! 

Miss Nort. — (shivering). Oh! 

George — (as above). When I reached the house all 
was quiet. But no stranger was allowed to enter. 
Having learned that the child had been hurt 
and hurried away to the Hospital, there I went 
and inquired after him. I was told that his con- 
ditions were serious, and that they were trying 
to locate his mother in order to notify her of 
child's conditions. I told them that it would be 
easy for me to find you out and apprise you of 
what had befallen your child. 

Mrs. Priest. — (anxiously). And how long is it since 
you left there? 

George — (looking at watch). About an hour, madam. 

Mrs. Priest. — (as above). An hour? And what has 
happened in this hour? Oh, God knows! (sobs 
with face in hands). 

Miss Nort. — (hopefully). We might inquire through 
the telephone right here in the office, Mrs. 
Priestcn. 

Mrs. Priest. — (raising head). Oh, do, Miss Norton, 
please for my child's sake! 

(exit Miss Norton and George). 

SCENE VI. 

Mrs. PRIESTON, Mister HIP. 

Mrs. Priest. — Oh, Mister Hip, how terrible! (seats 
herself at table: rests elbows on it and face 
in hands. Pause). Where and how did the fire 
start Mister Hip? 

— 27 — 



Mist. Hip — (calmedly). I don't know, madam. I had 
gone out for additional provisions, and when I 
went back fire had done its direful work. 

Mrs. Priest. — And Jane, where was she? 

Mist. Hix> — She was in when I went out. Then I didn't 
hear, nor thought more of her. She must have 
escaped uninjured, by all guessing. 

Mrs. Priest. — Did you enter the house? 

Mist. Hip — No, madam — I wasn't permitted. But I 
don't think damages have been great. 

Mrs. Priest. — Oh, the woeful fate that has befallen 
my poor child! (Pause: Miss Norton and George 
silently re-enter ) . 

SCENE VII 

Mrs. PRIESTON, Miss NORTON, GEORGE, Mister HIP 

Mist. Hip — (sees Miss Norton and George remain 
silent and fearsome by door: affrighted). Oh! 

Mrs. Priest. — (starts to her feet: anxiously). Well — 
have you learnt anything? 

Geroge — (pale.: chokedly). Even too much, madam! 

Mist. Hip — (hushedly sobbing). He, he, - oh! 

Mrs. Priest. — (tranfixed). My child? 

George — (as above). — is dead, madam! 

(with a shriek Mrs. Prieston swoons in Miss 
Norton's .arms). 

CURTAIN. 



28 



ACT III. 
Room in Mrs. Miller's house. 

SCENE I. 
Mrs. MILLER, GEORGE. 

George — (enters, followed by Mrs Miller). Yes r 

mother — it was very dreadful. 
Mrs. Mill. — You didn't enter the house, did you? 
George (dropping hat on table). — No — they woudn't 

let me. I inquired about Jane, and I learned that 

she was in all right. Yet, I was there again a 

short while ago, and I was told that she was 

not in the house. 
Mrs. Mill. — George, you hang too much to that girl's 

skirt. There isn't enough brain in thaj* girl's 

head! 
George — (appealingly). Mother, you are unjust toward 

Jane. 
Mrs. Mill. — (sighing). She isn't the girl I dreamed of 

mating with you! 
George — Well, mother — she may not be all you 

wish her to be,, but she's the girl I always dream- 
ed of marrying. 
Mrs. Mill. — (sternly). George, you should shame 

yourself. 
George — (appealingly). Oh, mother! Now, be good 

and tell me what is the matter with Jane. 
Mrs. Mill. — Nothing — so far as 1 know. But I'm sure 

she won't prove the right wife for my son. 
George — On what grounds? 
Mrs. Mill. — Well — er — really on no material 

grounds. Yet, whenever she is near me my whole 

being rebels at the thought of having to call 

her my daughter. 
George — (beaming). Now, see, mother — I was right 

— 29 — 



to say that you are not just toward her. You 
misjudge her on mere emotional experience, 
which you will change if you only think of pleas- 
ing me your George! (throws arms about her 
neck) . 

Mrs. Mill. — (placing hands on George's shoulders). 
I '11 try. George — I "11 try to please you, any- 
way, so Ions; as you '11 be happy. 

George — (kisses her brow; taking arms off her neck). 
Thank you, mother. You are too good to do 
differently. We shall, Jane and I ^make you 
happy, too - never mind, mother. 

Mrs. Mill. — (moved). Time and use will surely change 
my feelings, my son. Take my words as un- 
said, (door -bell rings). There's someone at the 
door. 

George — (making for door). Who can it be? 

Mrs. Mill. — (holding him back). Let me go see, 
George, (exits). 

SCENE II. 

GEORGE, JANE. 

Jane — (entering at door, apparently calm). GeorgeT 

Geoge — (delightfully surprised). Jane! (goes to her, 
taking her hands in his). I have been very 
anxious about you these last hours, Jane 
i drawing chair by her). Sit down and rest 
yourself, Jane — you must have been dread- 
fully scared and grieved. 

Jane — (seating herself). Thank you, George (looking 
about her). Yes — 1 was very scared. 

George — And how did it all happen, Jane? You were 
in, weren't you, Jane? 

Jane — - (uneasy). Yes, I was in, George. But, for 
goodness' sake, George, don't ask me about it! 

— 30 — 



I 'm too shocked and tired to go over the thing 

now. 
George — (gently pressing her hands). You are right, 

Jane — I 'm a fool to awake in your mind so 

gruesome an experience. 
Jane — (as above). Yes, George — let's not talk of it 

for a while. 
George — (as above). Yes, Jane = — it will do me good, 

too; for when that poor child's face comes before 

my mind, it makes me almost cry. 
Jane — (shivering). Stop, George! Say no more. 
George — (coaxingly). All right, Jane — I '11 say no 

more of it, dear. 
Jane — (abruptly). George, do you really love me as 

you have always said? 
George (surprised). Why — sure. What a query, Jane! 
Jane — (brightening). Well — I must know, George. 

And are you willing to marry me? 
George — (as above). And dare you doubt it, when I 

should have done it already hadn't I lost my 

position? 
Jane — - (glowing). No — I doubt not your love for 

me, George, (rising). But I want you to marry 

me to-night. George! 
George — (startled; letting her hands fall). Jane! 
Jane — (determinedly). Yes, to-night, George. You 

know it's safely possible for us to do it. 
George — (greatly disturbed). Jane! Is it a joke you 

want to play on me? 
Jane — (taking his hand). I'm speaking in earnest, 

George. We love one another — therefore, our 

marriage can take place at any time, even to- 
night. 
George — (distressedly) . But, Jane, you are very well 



31 — 



acquainted with the reasons why we must post- 
pone our marriage, for a while at least. 

Jane — (beaming). Nonsense, George! (leaves his hand; 
drawing from handbag roll of bills and various 
rings, ear-rings and pins studded with dia- 
monds). Here's money enough to put your rea- 
sons to flight! (lays valuables on table). 

George — (painfully surprised). Oh — what that 
means, Jane? Where did you get those things? 

Jane — (resolutely). Never mind where I have got 
them — they are for our disposal. 

George — (irritated). You tell me how you got them! 

Jane — (uneasy). Oh, George! I — er — have found 
them on the street. 

George — (flaring up). No — it can't be! Tell me how 
you got them. 

Jane — (affrighted). George, you scare me! 

George — (excitedly; getting hold of her hands). You 
tell me where you got that gold. 

Jane — (as above). — Oh, George, you scare me I 
(falteringly). I got it — er — from a friend. 

George — (a horrible realization coming upon him; 
snarling). It isn't true! You tell me the truth. 

Jane — (pleadii^y). Oh, George — you hurt me! 

George — (in hissing tone). Its Mrs. Prieston's pro- 
perty ! 

jane — (falls to her knees; sobbing). Have mercy on 
me, George! 

George — (frantic with despair). Oh, God — it's true! 
(tossing her to floor). Go! 

j ane — (raises arms toward George; beseechingly) r 
Have pity on me, George! I have done it for 
our love's sake, George! Oh, George — do not 
despise me! 

George — (sneeringly). For our love! ( wringing 

— 32 — 



hands). Oh, you have dishonored our love! You 
have blighted my love! 

Jane - — (as above). I didn't know what I was doing, 
George! (hides face in hands; convulsedly sob- 
bing). Cast me not away, George, for I shall 
die! 

George — (pointing to door). I'm done with you — 
go! 

Jane — (as above). Oh, oh, oh! 

George — (pacing floor). It's too horrible! It's too 
horrible! (halting abruptly as a hideous suspi- 
cion grips his mind; in anguish) Then, you set 
up the fire and caused the child's death! 

Jane — (springing to her feet in a flurry). No, no, 
no! It 's not true! 

SCENE III. 

GEORGE, JANE, Mrs. MILLER. 

Mrs. Mill. — (enters at door; to George). What's the 
matter, George? 

George — (throws himself on chair; props elbows on 
knees and face in hands. flMBMv). Oh, mother, 
it can't be told — it's too horrible! 

Jane — (picks up jewels and money, throws them in 
bag; goes to door; turning). I know where I 
shall betake myself, now! (exits). 

SCENE IV. 

Mrs. MILLER, GEORGE. 

Mrs. Mill. — (going to George). George, my boy, calm 
yourself! (caressingly smoothing his hair). Be 
a man, George! 

George — (striving for self-control). Oh, it's too hard 
to bear, mother! 



— 33 



Mrs. Mill. — (as above). Nothing is beyond a man's 

strength, my boy. 
George — (rises; recomposed) . You are the noblest of 

mothers, you are! (throwing arms about her 

neck.) I '11 try to obey you, mother. 
Mrs. Mill. — (as above). Tell me all, my son — and 

you'll feel much relieved. 
George — (shrinking). Oh, no — not now, mother! 

I 'm too upset. Maybe some other day I shall 

be able to tell you all about. 
Mrs. Mill. — All right, my son — it 's all for your 

good, (door-bell rings). Let me see who it is. 

(exits). 

SCEXE V. 

GEORGE, ALONE. 

(readjusting his clothes, stroking his hair and rubbing 
his eyelids). Oh, what a dreadful experience 
have I got of my first love! Who could ever 
have thought? (sighs. Pause). For our love, she 
said* (halting). By God, is my love then as 
guilty as hers? (startled). Have I had a hand 
in her guilt, too? Did she mean that when she 
said: — for our love? Oh, my head whirls like 
a top! 

SCENE VI 

GEORGE, Mrs. MILLER, Mister HIP. 

Mist. Hip — (limps in, followed by Mrs. Miller. Cheer- 
ily). Hello, George! How's George, by jove? I 'm 
myself again, by jove — eyes dry, face aglow, 
smiling lips — that's how Mister Hip breasts 
life's gloomy tide! 

Mrs. Mill. — (beckoning to chair). Make yourself 
comfortable, Mister Hip. 

— 34 — 



Mist. Hip — Thank you, Mrs. Miller, (seating him- 
self). Ouch! 

Mrs. Mill. — George is very young, Mister Hip; and 
young people are easily affected. 

Mist. Hip — You are right, Mrs. Miller, by jove. When 
I was a young man I believed all that the girls 
would say to me; and many a time I got stung, 
by jove. 

George ■ — (heaving a sigh). One of life's pangs, Mister 
Hip, is that one isn't master of life's tricks till 
it's all over with it. 

Mist. Hip — By jove, George, you talk phiso...so...losi- 
cal — by jove, I can never snatch that word 
out the right way. 

Mrs. Mill. — (good - humoredly) . That must be an alien 
word, Mister Hip. 

Mist. Hip — That's what it is, Mrs. Miller — an out- 
landish word. It must be of Chinese extraction! 
(all laugh). 

George — (taking up hat). Well, mother, I'll take a 
stroll out. I need to draw in some fresh air. Good 
— bye, Mister Hip. 

Mist. Hip — Good-bye, George. 
(George exits). 

SCENE YIT. 

Mrs. MILLER, Mister HIP. 

Mist. Hip — That's a real good boy, a sterling chap, 
Mrs. Miller; and I love him as if he were a son 
of mine, ' indeed, by jove. Oh, listen, Mrs. Mil- 
ler. I have made up my mind to propose to 
somebody. 

Mrs. Miller — (seating herself; good - humoredly) . 
You are, indeed, a good proposition, Mister Hip. 

— 35 — 



Mist. Hip — (elated). Do you think so, M.rs. Miller *r 
Then you encourage me to propose? 

Mrs. Mill. — (smiling). Why, certainly, Mister Hip. 

Mist. Hip — (clapping hands on knees). Then I will> 
by jove! I 'm tired of staying a lonely man; 
besides, I 'm of an age that calls for good house 
-keeping. And do you think, Mrs. Miller, 
I 'm one that would be accepted by any self- 
respecting woman? 

Mrs. Mill. — (as above). No doubting about that. 

Mist. Hip — (as above). By jove, I will propose! I'm 
not so old as not to expect to live another score 
or more years of happy conjugal life, (rising). 
Ouch! Mrs. Miller, Mister Hip has the honor 
of asking your hand. 

Mrs. Mill. — (surprised). Er - Mister Hip, I never 
thought of such an honor! I beg your pardon, 
but I feel myself unable to give you an answer 
presently. 

Mist. Hip — (self-satisfied). Take your time, Mrs. 
Miller — take your time. I well know how such 
affairs have to be carried on: — softly and persis- 
tently. 

Mrs. Mill. — (smiling). But your proposing hasn't 
been kind of soft, Mister Hip! 

Mist, Hip — I beg your pardon, Mrs. Miller; but I 
have been thinking of it since we have been 
acquainted, which isn't less than a couple of 
years. 
Mrs. Mill. — Oh, Mister Hip! 

Mist. Hip — Yes — I could swear to that, by jove! 
But we'll talk it over on a next occasion, (limp- 
ing to door). I wish you a good night, Mrs. 
Miller. 



36 



Mrs. Mill, -(following him). Fare you well, Mister 
Hip. 
(exit). 

CURTAIN. 

ACT IV. 

Drawing room in Mrs. Prieston's home: in front, two 
shuttered and heavily curtained windows; at the 
right, open door draped in white; at the left, two 
doors. A faint glare shines through draped door. 

SCENE I. 

Mrs. PRIESTON, Miss NORTON. 

Mrs. Priest. — ■ (is dressed in mourning. Folded linen 
cloth girds her forehead and is tied on back of 
head. She is reclining on settee. Rising to sit- 
ting position). Oh, how dreadful, Miss Norton! 
The whole seems to me as one of those dreary 
dreams that haunt a troubled mind . (rests 
elbows on knees and face in hands). 

Miss Nort. — (seated in chair by right side of settee) . 
Indeed, Mrs. Prieston! (appealingly) . But you 
need te- keep yourself calm, Mrs. Prieston — and 
nothing will help you better than rest and a 
change in the trend of your thoughts. 

Mrs. Priest. — (as above). — Yes, Miss Norton — I 
well see I need do all that. But if it is in my 
power to rest, it is not so with my thoughts 
which are swayed and encompassed by the 
haunting and torturing idea of my responsibility 
for the direful fate that has befallen my un- 
fortunate child. 

Miss Nort. — Your responsibility! And how, Mrs. 
Prieston, since you were away when the thing 
happened? 

— 37 — 



Mrs. Priest. — (sighing). That was just my guilt — 
leaving him into stranger hands! 

Miss Nort. — Oh, Mrs. Prieston, what a cruel idea! 
Shall a mother's responsability, then, be al- 
lowed no respite before one's own conscience? 
But the world is not so severe in passing judge- 
ment upon mothers' conduct! 

Mrs. Priest. — (as above). Oh, Miss Norton, the 
world's judgement does not always put our con- 
science at rest-nay, such is very seldom the case. 

Miss Nort. — Consciences, Mrs. Prieston, are not mould- 
ed after one pattern — what is guilty for one 
may be innocent for another. 

Mrs. Priest. — True, Miss Norton; but we cannot fore- 
go drawing lines. For each status of society 
there is a different standard to which one's con- 
science more or less agrees. And it is an every 
- day - conscience that like a work - suit 
serves the purposes of the cast - — the average 
conscience of married women is not the same as 
that of maidens; just as the average conscience 
of the rich is not the same as that of the poor. 

Miss Nort. — If I well understand, Mrs Prieston, it 
is your meaning that one's conscience is the 
best judge of one's conduct, and that no one 
should sit in judgement and dictate precepts 
who is not of the class. 

Mrs. Priest. — Perfectly, Miss Norton. 

Miss Nort. — Oh, how strange! A mother then may 
condemn herself though the world sees no fault 
with her. 

Mrs. Priest. — Exactly, Miss Norton. 

Miss Nort. — But all this avails not in your case, for 
what has happened might equally have come to 
pass under any other circumstance. 

— 38 — 



Mrs. Priest. — (raising head) . Were it so, I should feel 
myself guiltless though the world should con- 
demn me. But I do feel my responsibility in the 
face of facts ! 

Miss Nort. — And should a mother be forbidden to 
pursue other goals outside her home? 

Mrs. Priest. — (emphatically). Not at all. 

Miss Nort. — Oh — and how, then? 

Mrs. Priest. — Mothers, as worsen in general, comprise* 
a very large and important class , with a con- 
science of their own and interests apart from all 
other. They are, therefore, entitled to see to 
these interests and to develop and uplift that 
conscience. But, as it is the case with all notable 
social movements, it will cost women, and 
mothers especially, much pain and great sacrif- 
ices (pause). 

Miss Nort. — Oh, Mrs. Prieston — and do you believe 
family ties will be sacrificed? 

Mrs. Priest. — Not at all. Miss Norton. Was not christ- 
ianism at its start looked upon as the harbinger 
of anarchy and family disruption? and hasn't it 
proved the best supporter of order and family 
bonds? 

Miss Nort. — (beaming). Oh, Mrs. Prieston, how hope- 
ful you make me for the future of our cause, and 
how braced up to endure and suffer! 

Mrs. Priest. — (re-covering face with hands). 
And, alas, 1 am one of those whose happiness 
will be shattered and whose loved ones sacrific- 
ed! (raising head: in anguish). Miss Norton, 
believe me, there is a pain more excrutiating than 
the persecution and death suffered by the early 
christians at the hands of Nero, and that is to 
see opp's own innocent child pay the penalty of 

— 39 — 



sins he has not committed. (turning to right 
door with outstretched hands). Oh, my unfortu- 
nate child, forgive me, forgive me! (sobs. Pau- 
se). Oh, Miss Norton — Numberless and pain- 
fully tearing are the thorns that strew the path 
on which those tread that strive for more light 
and liberty! (recovers face with hands). 

SCENE II. 

Mrs. PRIESTON, Miss NORTON, GEORGE 

George' — (hat in hand, enters, at backward left door; 
timidly advancing, goes to draped door; exits. 
After a minute he re-enters, wiping eyes; sits on 
chair near to table. Pause: Miss Norton rises and 
exits at left forward door. Laying hat on table). 
Mrs Prieston! 

Mrs. Priest. — (starts; raises head) . Oh — it is you, 
George. 

George — (in quivering tone). I must ask for your 
pardon, Mrs. Prieston. 

Mrs. Priest. — (surprised). For what, George? 

George — (as above). — Er-for Jane, Mrs. Prieston. 

Mrs. Priest. — (clouding). Oh, George, why didn't she 
save my child? 

George — I am sure, madam, that if she didn't save 
him it must have been because she could not. 

Mrs. Priest. — And where is she? 

George — (with uneasiness). I don't know, madam. She 
came to my house last night and-er — Mrs. Prie- 
ston, she confessed to a crime. 

Mrs. Priest. — (startled). A crime! 

George. — (in painful tone). Yes, madam — to a theft, 
Mrs. Priest. — (as above). A theft! 

George — (as above). Yes, madam-to a hideous deed. 
And I ejected her out of the house !- 

— 40 — 



Mm. Priest. — Oh! And why did she do it? 

George — (striving for breath). She said she had done 

it for our love-mine and hers-because we needed 

money in order to be married. 
3trs. Priest. — (shocked). Oh! 
George — (rising). Yes, madam-and that's why I feel 

myself as much guilty as she is. 
Mrs. Priest. - — (moved). Poor George! 
George — (appealingly) . Yes, madam — I feel myself 

guilty, too, for I really loved her. And should she 

suffer for her deed my conscience would never 

be at rest. 
Mrs, Priest. — (as above). Honest George! But I do 

not see what I can do for you, George. 
George — (in anguish). It will be easy for you to 

understand, madam, when I have told you that — 

SCENE III. 
Mrs. PRIESTON, GEORGE, POLICEMAN. 

Police — (enters at left backward door, cap in hand: 
advancing), Mrs. Prieston? 

Mrs. Priest. — (turning). Yes, sir. 

Police. — I am sent from Police Quarters, madam, to 
restore you some objects of your property, 
(draws out from pocket roll of bills and jewels; 
placing them on table). These valuables were 
stolen from this house yesterday during the fire, 
when, profiting by the confusion, the thief was 
sure to escape detection. 

Mrs. Priest. — (greatly surprised, rises, walks to table; 
looking objects over). Yes, sir — they belong to 
me. I had not noted their disappearance, because 
the thought of looking into the drawers had ne- 
ver occurred to me. 



— 41 — 



Police — The thief has repented, by all appearances, 
and has given hersedf up. 

Mrs. Priest. — (in painful anxiety). And who was the 
thief, sir? 

Police — Your maid-servant, madam. 

Mrs. Priest. — (transfixed). Oh! 

Police — Yes, madam, (bowing). I'm very sorry, ma- 
dam, for the unhappy event, and (nodding to 
right door) for your great loss. You will take 
up what resolutions you will deem best in order 
to have the thief prosecuted. 

Mrs. Priest. — (dumfound). Thank you, sir. 

(policeman exits). 
SCENE IV. 

Mrs. PRIESTON, GEORGE. 

Mrs. Priest. — (turning to George). Oh, George, how 

incredibly wretched she has been! 
George — trembling). Oh, yes — madam! 
Mrs. Priest. — (recoiling as if a horrible vision had 

caught her eyes). Good God — and who knows 

if that is her only crime! George, do tell me the 

truth! 
George. — (eagerly; in quivering tone). It is the only 

one, madam — yes, I can assure you of that! I 

could let my life stand bond for her innocence 

of other crimes, madam! 
Mrs. Priest. — (covers face with hands; goes back to 

settee; falling on it). Oh, how unhappy I am! 
George — (falls on knees; beseechingly). Oh, madam, 

forgive her and — VMMW — nie. 
Mrs. Priest. — (raises head; movedly). I have nothing 

to forgive you, George! 
George — Oh, pardon her, too, madam, for my sake, 

for your dead child's sake! 

— 42 — 



Mrs. Priest. — (moved to tears; turning to draped door 
with outstretched hands). Oh, my great sacrifi- 
ce, I do pardon her, for I myself need be much 
forgiven! (re-covers face with hands, MMtal). 

George — (joining hands). Oh, thank you, good ma- 
dam! 

CURTAIN. 



END. 



43 



D *C 2 1911 



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LITTLE HAROLD 



THE SUFFRAGETTE 



A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS 



G. F, LISANTI 




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NtCOLETTI BROS. PRESS. 242 LAFAYETTE ST., ft 

NEW yoffK c/ry J 



